


Sirius Swears

by JA_Authoress



Series: Muggle Mishaps [50]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Competition, F/M, Fluff, French, M/M, March 1979, Montreal, Swearing, competitive Lily, jily, wolfstar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-24
Updated: 2016-03-24
Packaged: 2018-05-28 19:26:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6342046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JA_Authoress/pseuds/JA_Authoress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>March 24, 1979</p><p>With the end of their Montreal adventures in sight, Lily, Peter, and Remus must determine who has to sit next to James on the flight back to England.</p><p>“The person who can correctly guess if Black is insulting, swearing, or complimenting someone get a point.  Person with the most points gets the seat to themselves.”  Peter made a squeak of protest.  “Person with the least sits next to James.”  Lily shuddered at the memory.  “Middle gets Black.  Deal?”</p><p>“Deal.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sirius Swears

**Author's Note:**

> Huge thank you to Januaryskies for the French translations! Without you, this fic definitely wouldn't have been the same. Seriously. ... and Siriusly. She had to deal with my vague instructions of "A line insulting a piece of artwork with the artist nearby". Bunny for a rest for this episode! Full translations are in the bottom notes~
> 
> Thanks to Bunny for the idea for this in the first place ^_^
> 
> Thank you for reading and please leave a comment/kudos if you liked it!
> 
> Remember! Never insult someone artwork in front of them. Just no.
> 
> Have a wonderful day!
> 
> ps: Holy crap. This is number 50... How the hell did that happen?

March 24, 1979

“Allons-y, mes amis!” Sirius called back to the group of stragglers as he and James fairly pranced along ahead of them.

Remus immediately stuck out his fist.

“That doesn’t count, he’s said it before.” Lily hissed, smacking Remus’s hand down.

“You’re just saying that because you’re ahead of me.” Remus pouted, shoving his hands back into the deep pockets of his coat. “I bet it’s a different phrase, and it’s something insulting.”

“No, he’s said it every day since we got to Montreal,” Peter said after consulting with his handy diary. “It’s something like, ‘ _Let’s go, my friends_ ’.”

Lily gave Remus her patented ‘I told you so’ look.

Now, this wasn’t an entirely normal situation, even for the Marauders, but the issue arose about three days after their arrival, when Peter asked Lily, “Are you sitting next to James on the way home?” to which Lily froze like a doe in headlights and whispered loudly in horror, “Good Merlin, NO!”. Remus was the next most logical person at the table at the time, and asked the very vital (and looking back on it, very stupid) question, “Who’s going to sit next to him then?”

Six hands pointed to three different people, and before any loud arguments could ensue (“I had to sit next to him on the way here, I’m not doing it again!”), Sirius spouted a random sentence in French, as he tended to do (even though most residents were bilingual, and therefore English was fairly appropriate and they giggled at Sirius’s posh French every time).

“That one sounded angry.” Remus mused. “Bet he insulted the beer again.”

“No, he must’ve complimented him, look at the bartender!” Lily gestured wildly to the bartender, who was turning a bit red.

“I think I agree with Remus,” Peter slid his barstool away from Lily.

“Black!” Sirius whirled around. “Did you compliment the bartender?”

Sirius snorted. “Told him if I wasn't taken, I would marry this beer it's so good, but don't worry Moony, I wasn't being serious.”

Lily whooped loudly while Remus and Peter groaned. “That’s one point for me, boys,” she whispered.

“One point for what?” Remus questioned, a bit fearfully.

“The person who can correctly guess if Black is insulting, swearing, or complimenting someone get a point. Person with the most points gets the seat to themselves.” Peter made a squeak of protest. “Person with the least sits next to James.” Lily shuddered at the memory. “Middle gets Black. Deal?”

“Deal.”

Cut to present time. Peter was actually winning at this point with 24 points (he was particularly good at the compliments), Lily was currently in second with 19 (she had the basics down and could generally tell if it was swearing). Remus was almost in second with 18 (pure unadulterated guess work, you’d think his mild knowledge of Welsh would come in handy with other languages, but nooooooooo).

This was the last day too.

9:31 a.m.

"Madame, votre cuisine est d'une exceptionnelle qualité, et vos bagels mériteraient d'être loués d'un bout à l'autre de la planète!"

The young woman turned bright red and looked as though she wanted to cry as she handed Sirius his order.

“3, 2, 1!” Lily whispered. At one, Lily threw out the V, Remus and Peter thrust out a thumb.

“Padfoot!”

“Yes, my darling Moony?”

“What’d you say to her?”

“' _Madam, your cooking is exceptionally fine and good, and your bagels ought to be praised all over the world'_ , give or take a few words. My French is still a bit rusty.”

Lily swore violently under her breath before taking a massive bite of her bagel. Just as she thought she’d gotten the hang of it.

12:49 p.m.

Remus was disappointed to find out that Notre-Dame Church had been severely damaged by fire a few months earlier. “We’ll have to come back when they rebuild it then!” Sirius had announced loudly upon seeing his Moony’s long face. Lily’s eye twitched, but she merely suggested a different church (although why they were insistent on going into churches was beyond her).

They were inside Saint Joseph’s Oratory no less than five minutes before Sirius blurted out, “Putain, c'est chiadé ce truc!”

Several other visitors nearby looked absolutely appalled, but Sirius didn’t pay attention to them. He was too busy trying to look at everything at once.

“3, 2, 1!” Remus hissed. All three said compliment.

“Black, what’d you say?”

“' _Fuck, it’s bloody awesome'_.” Sirius replied without missing a beat, staring up at the ceiling, and then the massive organ to the side. “Think they’d mind if I tried that out?”

Remus caught Sirius by the tail of his plait before his boyfriend could run off towards it. He noticed Lily grab James out of the corner of his eye.

“Oi, there’s a really scary man in white robes coming towards us.” Peter whispered frantically. “Do muggle churches have wizards in them?”

Lily swore under her breath. “Time to go!”

2:55 p.m.

"Cette épinette est un pur délice, un régal pour le palais!" Sirius groaned leaning back in his chair, clutching the pint of something the bartender called ‘spruce beer’ in one hand and Remus’s unoccupied hand in the other. “Moony, what d’you think?”

“Er, it’s interesting I suppose, in a good way.” Remus had to put his pint down and throw out a thumbs up to match Lily’s and contradict Peter’s. “What was that French bit there?”

“French? Oh, I was just saying ‘ _that spruce beer is a pure delight, a feast to the palate_ ’.”

“Is that so?” Lily asked, clinking glasses with Remus in celebration. “How fascinating.”

4:49 p.m.

James wrapped his arms around Lily as they inspected a particularly unique piece of artwork in the Montreal Museum of Fine Arts.

“This artist seems like he really captured the tortured soul of his subject.” James said very seriously.

“James, darling, it’s a tree, I don’t think it can really have a tortured soul.”

“The things trees see, Lily-love.” James sighed dramatically.

“Oi, Prongs! Come here!”

Lily smiled and rolled her eyes as her fiancé abandoned her to throw his arm around Sirius in front of a rather interesting piece of artwork.

“Bordel, jamais vu une croûte aussi moche... Il s'est torché avec, le peintre, vous croyez?”

James and Sirius looked at each other very seriously before breaking down in hysterical giggles.

“3, 2, 1!” Lily confidently threw down a V, as did Peter. Remus went with a thumbs up with immediate regret (his boyfriend’s facial expressions were so much easier to read in English; why did he have different facial expressions for French?!).

“Pads, care to translate?” Remus asked down to Sirius, who was crying with laughter on the floor with James.

Sirius wiped the tears from his eyes (luckily he’d invested in some waterproof eyeliner for just such an occasion). “Just taking the piss really. Ahem, ‘ _Gosh, never saw such a daub! Do you think he rubbed his arse with it?_ ’.”

James started laughing again, his fiancée and Peter joined him. And as much as Remus tried not to laugh, his lip twitched a bit.

A very angry looking man with very artsy apparel appeared next to the artwork in question and started yelling angrily in French.

Sirius appeared unaffected, “Ça va, pas la peine de s'énerver."

Everyone was a little too preoccupied with the angry artist to participate in their competition. They left in a bit of a hurry after that.

Once they were safely out of the building and around the corner, Sirius whistled, "Il est vraiment soupe au lait.” He glanced over at Remus, who gave him an exasperated look in spite of not knowing what exactly he said. “Oi! C'est pas ma faute! Not my fault!”

Two V’s and a thumbs up went down as soon as Sirius’s back was turned.

“What was that first part, Pads?” Remus asked.

“Just saying that bloke had quite a short temper. Not my fault he’s got shite taste in artwork.”

Lily threw her hands up in frustration. Peter polished off his fingers with a smirk. Remus sighed in relief because at least now he was tied with Lily again.

“Who’s ready for dinner? I’m starving!” James said. His stomach growled loudly in agreement.

“All right, but no poutine!” Lily stated, giving her fiancé a look, daring him to protest, which he did regardless of the look.

5:18 p.m.

Sirius chose a rather quaint restaurant for their final dinner. He wasn’t so impressed by the wine menu though.

"Non mais c'est du foutage de gueule le prix de ce Merlot! C'est même pas une bonne année!" He exclaimed, shoving the menu at James.

“I couldn’t agree with you more,” he said, nodding along.

“What’d he say?” Lily whispered inconspicuously as Remus and Peter stared at the words they managed to jot down. She knew it was kind of cheating, but she was currently tied with Remus for last and as much as she loved her fiancé, there was no way she was sitting next to him on the way home.

“I have no idea!” James whispered back with a shit-eating grin. Lily huffed as Remus counted down.

“All right everyone, final point. 3, 2, 1!”

Two for compliment and one for insult.

“Hey, Padfoot, what was that about the menu?” Peter asked innocently.

“The menu? Oh! I said, ‘ _Are they fucking kidding about the price of that Merlot? It's not even some good year_ ’. Don’t worry though, I ordered some for us anyway because I fucking love Merlot.”

Peter looked a little put out he didn't get that last point, but he sat back and stretched out. At least he would be flying back by himself again.

Lily gave a small squeak of excitement and soundly kissed James in celebration.

Remus stared down at his traitorous hand, which was promptly grabbed and kissed by his mostly oblivious boyfriend, and muttered a few choice curses, and "I should just abandon you lot and take a Portkey home", but he hadn’t quite left that in the budget. Instead, he simply continued to curse the whole flight home.

**Author's Note:**

> All French-English translations in one place, courtesy of the lovely and super awesome Januaryskies in order of appearance.  
> Allons-y, mes amis!" – “Let us go, my friends!”  
> "Madame, votre cuisine est d'une exceptionnelle qualité, et vos Bagels mériteraient d'être loués d'un bout à l'autre de la planète!" – “Madam, your cooking is exceptionally fine and good, and your bagels ought to be praised all over the world.”  
> "Putain, c'est chiadé ce truc!" – Basically: “fuck, it's bloody awesome”  
> "Cette épinette est un pur délice, un régal pour le palais!" – “That spruce beer is a pure delight, a feast to the palate.”  
> "Bordel, jamais vu une croûte aussi moche... Il s'est torché avec, le peintre, vous croyez?" – “Gosh, never saw such a daub! Do you think he rubbed his arse with it?"  
> "ça va, pas la peine de s'énerver" – “Okay, no need to get angry”  
> "Il est vraiment soupe au lait" – “he has quite a short temper”  
> "C'est pas ma faute!" – “Not my fault!”  
> "Non mais c'est du foutage de gueule le prix de ce Merlot! C'est même pas une bonne année!" (JanuarySkies’ note: Merlot is a very good brand of red wine) – "Are they fucking kidding about the price of that Merlot? It's not even some good year!”


End file.
